


Auctoramentum

by Nedrika



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, late treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nedrika/pseuds/Nedrika
Summary: A battle scarred veteran tries to relax in the baths, but is interrupted by a new prospect.
Relationships: Ancient Roman Older Gladiator/Ancient Roman Younger Patrician
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Original Characters & Original Works Flash Exchange May 2020





	Auctoramentum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandmaidenOfHorror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandmaidenOfHorror/gifts).



> What, me, late? Never

The tepidarium was quiet aside from the odd drip, just the way the lone bather wanted it kept after an exhausting day of training. The few slaves they had stationed in the room looking drearily into the middle distance with no clients to massage or strigil, and the laughter from the gymnasium had died out with the last of the sunlight. 

He sank further into the water, savouring the heat on the more vicious bruises and scars that littered his body. It was the finest part of his day and he always made sure he drew it out as far as he could, until there was barely time to make the rest of the rounds before the baths closed. 

The brush of dry feet against wet tile behind him broke the silence, startling the slaves out of their reverie before they were waved back into their stupor. He gave it no mind, focusing on the burn of his aches and pains receding and resigning himself to sharing the water for a while. 

"Sertor Priscia Verus," said a clear voice, full of authority but too young to have earned it, and he sighed bubbles into the water. This wasn't a question; he'd been recognised from the arena, no doubt, and was in no mood to pander. 

The boy sat by the edge of the pool and leisurely kicked his heels through the water. He scowled up at the intruder, who only gave him a sly grin in response. It was a fetching grin on a good face, and had the intended effect of rankling him into a response. He slid up enough to hook his arms over the lip of the pool and levelled a glare at him.

"If you want to play with a toy with my face on it you'll need to wait until the next fight. Three day's time.."

The boy laughed and leant back on his palms. "I'm too old for those toys, you're lucky I don't take that as an insult." 

"You'll have to wait until the next room if it's sweat you want, and what blood I still have I'm keeping for myself."

"Still not it. I've got an offer for you," he said, eyes trailing along Verus's arms to his chest, then down to the water.

Verus grunted, giving the boy a quick once-over. He was a full grown man, now that he looked closer, with the pristine skin and toned muscles of a patrician who'd done enough service to prove piety and then gone politician before it could get dirty. He never understood those types; the thrill of the fight had been what had driven him to sign up for the arena after his discharge, and then the money and fame got him to stay.

"As appealing as that sounds, I have my pick of plenty men and women that don't ask anything of me."

"It's not what you're thinking," the man said. "My name's Aulus Flavius Tacitus, and..." 

"Ah," Verus muttered; now things made a little more sense. "My honoured and elusive Flavian sponsor. Are you here to inspect the goods you've bought?"

Aulus huffed a warm laugh and settled further back on his arms. Verus watched the first bead of sweat trail into the dip of his collarbones, caught in the soft lamplight.

"You've had a long and illustrious career Verus, and it's been an honour to have been-"

"Save it," he snapped. "I know where this is going so you don't need to talk down to me. A few too many years, too many injuries means too many losses, and that means no more patronage."

"No. Well, not entirely," Aulus said, sobering up. "Although I'd certainly rather not see you get yourself killed out there facing a younger fighter. As it happens I have a little brother who's got himself hooked on the idea of a life in the military, who I would also rather not see killed."

Now this was interesting. Verus hunched over in the water, watching for any sign of a hidden joke and finding none.

"If you retire and become his trainer we could clothe, pay, feed you," his gaze narrowed. "Give you somewhere to sleep."

"Not in the stables with the dogs, I hope."

"No, as a free man, in a warm bed," Aulus drawled as he parted his legs, a promise of things to come.

Verus grinned up at his patron.

"I think I can make that work."

**Author's Note:**

> Roman naming conventions are a hot mess


End file.
